Winnie's POV
"When do you sleep?" I ask Embry before getting out of his van.
As the end of the week nears, Embry stays for breakfast after dropping me off most mornings. It seems to be our new routine. No more once a week Sunday mornings where we ignore each other. Instead I see him more than anyone else. He's the first person I see every morning, then the last at the end of my day. He somehow manages to spend time with me at work, even with the counter and kitchen in between us.
"I dunno," He yawns, "I sleep most nights."
"Most nights? Maybe I'm doing it wrong, but I'm pretty sure you're suppose to sleep every night, Embry."
"I nap," he waves off. "Do I look tired?" He asks, slumping against the window. Most of the time when I see him, Embry looks half asleep more times than he looks awake. Today, he looks practically exhausted. Dark purple bags puff up around his eyes. He has stubble around his chin, the beginning of a five o'clock shadow that I know will be full tomorrow. His hair is longer, shaggy on the sides as if he doesn't have time to trim it. I also didn't tell him how his shirt is inside out today.
"Want to come in for some coffee?" I offer instead of answering, not trying to be rude.
"Don't have to tell me twice." He turns off the engine of his van, following me up through the light rain to my little cabin.
It's fun to watch him fold into my home. He's so tall and massive. He takes up so much space. He has to lower at the knees and watch his head to come through the front door. He makes my furniture look small like they're toys when he's around, taking up two seats instead of one.
I grin to myself as I make his cup. He's so big I can feel his presence from across the little cabin, as if he's right behind me. It makes the little cabin feel cozier, rather than smaller.
"Okay, two sugars just how you—" When I turn around, he's fast asleep on my couch. He just sat down a few moments ago. He's up right, wall against the back, and his head all the way back.
Embry's POV
I'm disappointed as I wake up, because I haven't slept this good in years since before I changed. Instead of blinking the sleep out of my eyes, I let myself fall back asleep, getting comfier. I bury my head into something soft, rolling onto my side and looping my arm up and around a pillow tightly.
I feel the heat of the sun against my cheek, and debate over to check if I fell asleep outside again. There's been a few times Sam or Emily have found me in their garden. Groaning, I brave a quick glance, blinking my eyes open to see for myself that I'm not lying in grass. I'm cramped. A tight fit on a small sofa with my head bent to fit on one side, while my feet dangle over the other end. A knit blanket is thrown over me, but isn't long enough to over most of me.
For a spilt moment I'm proud I somehow made it inside, instead of sleeping on the lawn. Looking around, I slowly make out how I'm not at my house, or Sam's, or Jacob's, or Quil's. Stretching my neck, I glance around the little cabin, the realization of how I ended up in Winnie's cabin rising fast.
She's not far. She's seated in the corner of the other side of her sofa, mindlessly drinking a mug of tea and watching something on her laptop very quietly. She's tucked under my legs, softly resting her elbows against my knees. She changed out of her uniform, the smell of diner fries and coffee off her. I let myself take a deep breath, her smell of laundry and honey soap better than the smell of rain and tea. Her hair is damp from a shower, let out to air dry. She's in a chunky green knit sweater, with leggings and thick socks halfway up her calfs.
My arm twitches at my side, I have to fight the urge to reach out and hold her. Waking up next to her feels too good, better than I have felt in years. Not getting to hold my imprint robs me of the peace I had when I first woke up. I let myself survey her, my eyes following her little movements, taking in her little habits, like how she grins to herself when she wants to laugh.
"You're awake," Her brown eyes land on mine. I don't answer right away. I duck my head away, hoping she didn't catch me staring too long. "I made you coffee, and right when I went to give it to you, you fell asleep on the sofa."
"How long was I out for?" I yawn, beginning to sit up.
"A few hours." She checks the time. "It's almost dinner time."
"You just let me crash on your couch?"
"I couldn't wake you up." She shrugs, closing the laptop.
"Yeah, I tend to... black out after long shifts."
"Embry," Winnie starts, inching closer to reach out to cup my forehead. The motion is careful, but soft. Her fingers brushes against my hairline, the tips burying themselves in my locks before pulling back. "I think you're sick. You felt like you were burning up while you're sleeping. It feels like you have a fever. You passing out on my couch is convincing me."
"You're worried about me." I softly grin down at her, my hand reaching up on its own to touch the spot where her hand was a moment ago.
"You're not taking care of yourself." Winnie clarifies, giving me a pointed look.
"I'm not sick." I assure her, looping one arm around the back of the couch. Just when I think she's going to lean into the touch, she rises up onto her feet.
"I'm pretty sure you're sick. You felt like over a hundred degrees." She insists, crossing her arms over her chest. Though I'm not sure if she's being firm or hugging herself.
"I run hot. I'm always hot." I shrug. She frowns, which makes me want to chuckle at her. She doesn't understand yet. I try not to smile at her, but I get excited at just the idea of telling Winnie she's my imprint.
"Winnie, I never get sick. I won't catch a cold or the flu. I don't get season allergies. I'm not allergic to anything. You can rely on the fact that I will never get sick."
"Embry," she starts but trails off. She doesn't combat me on this, but I can understand why she doesn't believe me. Of course she doesn't. It's human nature to sick. She doesn't know about our change. "You should still take better care of yourself, Embry."
"Okay, I'll try to." I instantly give in and promise her. If Winnie asked me for the world I would attempt to find one way to give it to her. I just want her happy and us together. "I'll drink more water, and try to sleep more regularly."
"I'll serve you some healthier stuff at the diner from now on?" She offers, unsure if I'm alright with her idea.
"Thanks, I know you aren't doing that for any other customer." I smirk at her coyly, seeing how her cheeks flush.
"Well, you're the best customer to tow my car, then drive me around while it's getting fixed. That's better than any tip I've ever been given." She points out, busying herself with tidying up her counter as if it wasn't spotless already. I grin into my hand, loving the sight of her flustered. She's always so tough, she's even harder to crack that hard exterior, but there's these little moments where I find a soft spot. Watching her fluster up is more than attractive, it's mesmerizing to watch.
"Hey, Embry?" She turns back around, her cheeks eyes still hot and flushed with the slight of nerves. She's hesitant, with is odd since her personality is so firm. "Given how busy you are, when's the last time you had a haircut?"
"Hmm," I run my hand through my hair. Ever though I've had it short when I changed, I still mindlessly reach down, only to realize that the long lacks aren't there anymore. "I don't even remember."
Until the change, I always trimmed my own hair. Old Quil taught all of us when we were boys. When I changed, Emily and my mom helped me out with my haircuts. Occasionally Sue Clearwater would trim it if she thought it was too long. But ever since we fought off the leeches with the Cullens, I haven't had time to cut my hair.
"How about... I give you a haircut?" Winnie offers, nervously scratching the back of her head. I can't help the huge grin on my face. She takes me jumping to my feet as a yes, surprised she would allow near my head with a pair of scissors. She pulls a chair into the middle of the room, lays a towel over my shoulders and begins clipping.
"Have you cut hair before?" I ask, feeling her move behind me.
"Now you ask me after I started?" The sound of her chuckle makes me smile stupidly to myself.
With Winnie being so close, I'm more relaxed than I've felt in a long time. I should fight to stay upright, but I'm leaning into Winnie's touch. My head tilts back a bit when her fingers run up the back of my neck. When she brushes against my back or hand rests on my shoulders, my body inches the slightest bit closer to her.
"Hmm," I hear Winnie hum to herself, the buzz of her voice tickling my ear. The sound of her voice sends a warmth through me, beginning at my ear then rushing down to the pit of my stomach where it's doing excited flips.
"I miss your long hair." She notes.
"Me too." I sigh. "I was pretty attractive when I had long hair."
"You were skinny." Though Winnie's voice is matter of fact, just from the slight tremor in her hand I know she's blushing. Whenever anyone brings up high school she gets anxious. She especially avoids the topic of freshman year. As awful as high school was for her, I had to spend the rest of being avoided by her, knowing she liked me. We kissed, then everything went to shit, then she didn't speak to me for years.
"I was a stud," I joke, trying to lighten the room before she tenses up. She doesn't take me seriously, which is fine because the feeling of her easing behind me is enough.
"Would you ever regrow your hair?" She asks. The quick clips of the scissors alerts me she's maybe almost done. I try to enjoy this little moment as long as I have left of it. Ignoring the fact I'm not sure next when she'll feel comfortable to be this close to me again.
"No," I sigh. I would love to have long hair again. It wasn't just about looking cool. My hair meant so much to me.
"Why?"
I can't explain to her why.
"It's... just easier shorter." I lie poorly. She quiet for a long moment. Can she tell I'm bullshitting?
"I remember when you stopped coming to school in sophomore year. Then when you came back, and I remember just how shock I felt when I first saw you. I never expected you to cut it." She begins.
That was hard for me. Returning to school after the change was one of the hardest days to get through.
"I never told anyone this... when we were kids I loved your long hair. Ever since kindergarten. I found it so pretty. Sure, other boys had long hair, but yours... it was..." Winnie's words leave me so surprised, my head turned around to look at her. But she caught me mid turn, and asked nicely to keep my head straight for her to work.
"Not that you don't look just as good with short hair." She continues.
"Are you just saying that to be nice?"
"No," that sweet spot rings her voice, the tough exterior absent. She means it. Then it's back just as fast, firm as ever. "I'm not nice."
"Yes, Winnie, you are nice." My hand lands on hers, stopping her mid cut. Letting people crash on her couch because she's worried someone is sick is nice. Cutting people's hair for them is kind. Standing up for customers when someone tries to kick them out is nice. Compting my meal the same day. She's always been a nice girl, she still is. She's kind to her customers and coworkers when she thinks no one is looking, but tries to act tough. High school wasn't not fair to her. "People haven't been nice to you, but that doesn't mean you're not nice. And I should have been nicer to you back then."
I can tell she wants to stone up her face, but it's a struggle for her to. Her eyes burn with unsure emotion. Before she closes herself off, I squeeze her hand, because I want to hug her tight. Then turn back around and thank her quietly for doing my hair for me. After a long beat, she returns to cutting, hush as she thinks over my words. Just when I think I may have upset her, she says something so lowly that if I didn't have werewolf hearing I would have missed what she said.
"You're being nice to me now..." I'll be nicest person to Winnie if she'll let me.
"Okay, done." She balls up the towel. "What do you think?"
"I like it." I say.
"You haven't even looked at it. Don't you wanna check in the bathroom mirror?" She asks, but when I stand up, beaming down at her as I run my hands over it, her cheeks go pink.
"I like it." Is all I say, giving her hand a squeeze. She flusters, then insists for me to check for myself. I laugh her off, but use her bathroom for a glance just because she asked me too. I thought she would just make my hair look neat, but she did a good job. It's not just short at the sides, but she did a good attempt at a tapered neck cut with a pair of scissors.
"I really, really like it." I insist. "Thank you, Winnie."
